


Workplace Hazards May Apply

by nerdyydragon



Series: Kingsman Tumblr Ficlets [14]
Category: Kingsman (2014), Kingsman (2015), Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, at this point the poor lad just rolls with it because he's too shocked, but its completely consensual and makes sense in context
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8151548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyydragon/pseuds/nerdyydragon
Summary: There are dangers, working for a top-secret agency that operates at the highest level of discretion. One of them is death; the other is emotion.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own this - nowhere does my name appear in the credits of "Kingsman: Secret Service." You can check - which means I haven't made any money from this.

Eggsy knew a rather large number of useful but completely obscure skills, some acquired during his time in the estates trying not to get killed by Dean and his goons, and other achievements granted to him during his employment at Kingsman, where he was busy trying not to get killed by more than his fair share of other people.

These skills included being able to speak and understand nine different languages, picking locks, and defusing a bomb.

He had just never tried to disable a bomb that was counting backwards to detonation in some obscure Baltic dialect, while simultaneously freeing his wrists from where they were bound behind the chair he had been tied to. Although he had Merlin running diagnostics on his glasses feed so that he could focus on getting himself free, Eggsy still didn’t have a plan.

Knowing the risks that came along with working for a top secret agency that technically doesn’t exist and operates at the highest level of discretion, he had more than one contingency plan for his loved ones in the - admittedly very real and very possible - event of his death. His mum and sister would inherit the money he had earned in Kingsman’s employ (a very handsome sum itself), as well as JB. Roxy knew the hazards of the job, and had begged her to be the one to let his mum know (“I can’t have Harry go again - I know he’ll try - but it would kill her to see the face of the man who told her that the love of her life had died also tell her that her son is gone too”), under oath that he would get in contact with her parents should the same happen to her - trying his damndest to make sure her uncle, a fellow agent and her nominator codenamed Percival, didn’t know that he had been to see them at all, and at worst going with him were he to pay a visit to the Morton household.

If there was one person with whom he was unsure of how to proceed, however, it was Harry Hart. Now Arthur, he had returned almost seven months post V-Day  _ (“undercover work stateside, you know how beneficial it is to have a man who is legally dead work for you, my dear boy, and if I had been at liberty to inform you of my survival, I beg you to understand that you would have been immediately notified personally”) _ with nothing more than a scar on his forehead and a slight shaking in his right hand when he was extremely tense to show for it. But that wasn’t the problem. Nor was it that Eggsy had been, currently was, and would be until he died, in complete and nebulous love with the man. Although much too selfish to say anything for fear of too-polite rejection and a loss of quality time spent in Hart’s company, the problem was that Eggsy didn’t want to die with the knowledge that he had never told him. One might call it rude to tell someone that they love them and then get themselves blown up, leaving them to live with that knowledge, but the young man wasn’t bothered by it, as he had been living with the reality of his unreciprocated folly of emotion since before Harry had ever left headquarters for South Glade Mission Church.

Digging the pick further into the tumbler on his handcuffs, Eggsy shifted his attention to his handler.

“Merlin, how’s it coming with that bomb? You know, the one rigged to explode, taking me and an entire compound with it, in exactly six and a half minutes?” Eggsy huffed, letting out a breath when the lock clicked free and he could make short work of the rest of his restraints.

“There should be a panel on the left hand side, and you’re going to have to open it. Inside there should be wires and a keypad, and a large blue button. Do you see it?”

“O'course I see it, Merlin, you’re running the mission in real time through my feed.”

“Now, lad, no sass, we don’t have a lot of time.” The clock had reached five minutes fifty-seven seconds, if Eggsy’s understanding of Eastern European languages was correct. Not a lot of time was the understatement of the month. “Enter the code  _ 2-6-1-9-0-0-8-1-3-6 _ , then hit the button once it lights up. That should stop the clock.” It did, except there must have been a fail safe, since it promptly restarted again, this time at one minute thirty.

“Merlin, I’m going to need you to - to tell my mum and sister and Roxy that I love them. And tell Harry… Tell Harry, yeah? I’m gonna start cutting wires. Can’t detonate if there’s no power.” The Scot shouted something unintelligible over his comm link, but Eggsy couldn’t hear it as he removed his glasses in what hoped wouldn’t be the last act of his life.

–

Nearly an hour later, a jet touched down on the Tarmac just away from the demolished ruins of an old warehouse, three figures sprinting across to the rubble. Forcing movement, a young man staggered towards them, charred and injured but very much alive.

“Thought Kingsman policy was that agents stayed where they were downed; less issues with security.” He asked, stopping in front of the trio, two of whom shared nervous glances behind the back of the man in the centre. He stepped towards the young agent, and brushed soot and ash off of his jacket with his right hand, which trembled.

“We’re making an exception this time, darling.”

“Listen, Harry, about what you might’ve heard, it wasn’t fair of me to put that on you, and I get it if y-” Eggsy never did finish his sentence, as the hand that had swiped at his jacket lapels yanked him forward by his tie and into a kiss.

“Never. Die. On. Me. Again. Do I make myself clear?” The older man asked, whispered in between softer, less desperate brushes of lips.

“I’ll try if you will.” Another kiss.

“Done.” Eggsy threaded their hands together, and was pleased to note that the shaking in Harry’s hand ceased.


End file.
